


Season seven, episode one, Gravedigger Drabble

by naturesinmyeye



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: bury his sins, got season 7, gravedigger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturesinmyeye/pseuds/naturesinmyeye
Summary: Sandor the Gravedigger.The feels.Just delving a bit deeper.





	Season seven, episode one, Gravedigger Drabble

_ “What the hell are you doing, Clegane?” _

 

_ “Burying the dead.” _

 

************************************

 

The grave wasn’t deep, but he had made it wide enough. Wide enough for the farmer and his daughter to lie side-by-side. He should have done a better job of it, but the ground was near frozen already and winter had only just begun to nip at their heels. It was going to get worse. Much worse, for all of them. 

 

His heart beat wildly as he stooped to pick up the little girl’s bones, wrapped in a tattered blanket -the best he could find within the cold and filthy cabin. The last time he had been there it had been clean, warm and dry. Now it was rotting away alongside its former master. 

 

The girl -he’d never bothered to ask her name- was covered head-to-toe, and purposely so. The farmer he could stand to look at, but not the girl, with her empty, accusing sockets. She had fed him once and he had starved her. Would they have survived if he hadn’t stolen their silver? Probably not, but it would have bought them a chance, or at least time. They might have been able to move on, to seek out refuge with relatives or a community, much like the one that had taken him in. 

 

It was more than silver, he’d taken. He’d stolen hope from them as well. 

 

Placing the girl down into the earth gently, he then stepped back to do the same for her father. The dead man’s head hung loosely, and he secured his hold - he’d be damned if he’d do any more harm to either one of them. 

 

Never before had he buried a life he’d taken. It wasn’t just the two of them he frantically shoveled dirt onto. There were only two bodies in the grave, but there were countless in his mind. He couldn’t go back and bury them all. Only the two. They would stand in for  _ all _ . 

 

And then the fucking priest took up a second shovel. He didn’t ask for his help, and thought that he didn’t want it, but found himself unable to shout at the man to leave him alone. Neither one of them spoke. Support was given and received in the form of labored grunts and the scraping whisper of shovels.  

 

They’d buried two during his time in the community. One man and one woman. The little group of followers gathered to lay their friends to rest. There was more to it than bones and earth. There were words the Septon used to say. He didn’t  _ want _ to do it - _ he _ wasn’t the one who worshiped any God. But these people had, and he owed them this small token for what he’d done.

 

But the words he needed were gone. Missing. Forgotten, and he couldn't do even  _ this _ right. They deserved something though, and his tongue worked loose a sorry excuse of a prayer. He did as he had always done. Spoken honestly. Spoken true. 

 

It hurt. It scrubbed some place inside him raw, letting regret and guilt take over. Fucking feelings he had never asked for, as he threw his shovel to the side and fled. Rounding a corner, he listened, and when no footsteps followed, he let his shoulders slump, resting a hand against an outer wall of the cabin. 

 

Beric was right. It didn’t matter. Not to them. Nothing was just nothing after all. It only mattered to the ones left behind. 


End file.
